‘Dead Darlings’: Where No Joke Is Too Awful

Amanda Duarte hosting “Dead Darlings,” held each month in Judson Memorial Church downtown.CreditCreditLiz Barclay for The New York Times

By Brian Sloan

Feb. 28, 2017

“Now I’m going to do something I’ll regret.”

The singer Molly Pope stood at a mike in the cavernous Judson Memorial Church in Manhattan and started to read what appeared to be a deeply personal short story. An audience of 50 or so reacted with nervous laughter and, at times, intense silence, as she shared a story that was never meant to be heard in public.

It was an episodic tale of a fraught relationship set in a variety of hotel rooms. And when she was done, the crowd, many of them fellow writers, artists and performers, cheered.

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Ms. Duarte came up with the show’s concept four years ago while struggling with a new play and musing on the adage that writers often have to “kill their darlings” as part of the process.CreditLiz Barclay for The New York Times

Nonjudgmental feedback is one of the communal charms of “Dead Darlings,” a downtown variety show where authors, comedians, cartoonists, designers and other artists share their once-brilliant ideas, jokes, sketches and stage sets that ended up on the proverbial cutting-room floor.

Held the second Wednesday of each month, the 100-minute shows have featured established names like the dramatist Doug Wright, the actor Cole Escola, the writer Isaac Oliver, the novelist Alexander Chee and the set and costume designer Clint Ramos, as well as lesser-known artists and writers who still toil at their day jobs.

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The secret to the show’s success, Ms. Duarte said, is a sympathetic audience that is highly attuned to the pitfalls of the creative process.CreditLiz Barclay for The New York Times

The creator and host for this airing of creative laundry is Amanda Duarte, 41, a writer, performer and podcaster who lives in Brooklyn. She came up with the concept four years ago while struggling with a new play and musing on the adage that writers often have to “kill their darlings” as part of the process.

“I remember one day cutting and cutting, and thinking to myself, I’m just sitting here surrounded by all these dead darlings,” Ms. Duarte said. “I bet a lot of people feel this way, and wouldn’t it be nice if we all had a venue where we could give these darlings a little life.”

So in 2013, Ms. Duarte pitched the idea to her friend Micah Bucey, 36, who is the minister of the arts at Judson, a Greenwich Village church where cultivating creativity is part of its mission. The show usually takes place in the choir loft next to a bank of stained-glass windows, but sometimes occupies the main floor of the church for big crowds and benefit shows.

Four guests are invited each month to present the seemingly unpresentable. It may seem like a risky proposition, but the secret to the show’s success, Ms. Duarte says, is a sympathetic audience that is highly attuned to the pitfalls of the creative process.

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The cartoonist Emily Flake describing material that ended up in the trash.CreditLiz Barclay for The New York Times

“Nothing can really bomb at this show,” Ms. Duarte said. “People are being extremely vulnerable and brave, sharing things that failed or didn’t work, and the audience reveres that. That’s what they come for. The more humiliating or difficult or scary the material is to present, the more the audience loves it.”

A petite but boisterous host, Ms. Duarte stalks the stage in her signature neon pumps, lending the gatherings a fun, freewheeling atmosphere, with an emphasis on the comic nature of failure. The worse something seemed in private, the better it is for this setting.

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There is a lot of interplay between audience and performers, making it feel like an artistic therapy session, laughing through the pain of failure.CreditLiz Barclay for The New York Times

At the show in January, Erin Gloria Ryan, a senior editor at The Daily Beast, read her bizarre notes for a story about dropping acid at the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas. And Dylan Marron, a video maker, shared half-baked jokes from his first stand-up set, inviting the audience to workshop his clunkers. There was a lot of interplay between audience and performers, making it feel like an artistic therapy session, laughing through the pain of failure.

But “Dead Darlings” is not all jokes at a writer’s expense. The January lineup also included Rick Herron, a young art curator who shared the first draft of an essay he had written for a gallery show about mentorship. As it turned out, the essay had little to say about the show and ended up being, like many things these days, about the election of President Trump. After a few uneasy laughs, the audience grew hushed as Mr. Herron related telling his partner the news on election night.

“When I came in crying, he asked what had happened, all I could do was cling to him and say, ‘I’m so sorry,’ over and over again,” said Mr. Herron, his voice breaking as he read. “We talked for a little while and held each other until we both fell asleep.”

Sometimes, these creative exorcisms can even turn into resurrections, which is apt given the religious setting. The actor and comedian John Early, who has been a regular contributor, once brought in photos from a Toni Collette fan website he had built as a teenager. It had the audience in such hysterics that Mr. Early eventually included the material in his own show.

“We censor ourselves before our work even hits an audience,” Ms. Duarte said. “This is just a safe space to do that stuff we’re going to throw away. And then we get a response, and we’re kind of like, ‘Hey wait a minute, maybe I should bring this back.’”

Correction:

An article last Thursday about “Dead Darlings,” a variety show where writers share their rejected work, misstated the title for Micah Bucey at Judson Memorial Church. He is the current minister of the arts at Judson, not the former.